


like a drop of rain flowing to the ocean

by Thornofthelily



Series: akeshuake fairy tales [3]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Friendship, Grieving, Its not what it seems, M/M, Reincarnation, Sorrow, although there is some sad stuff, don’t let the major character death tag scare you, mentions of deaths, of plants and fish and oh yeah people, sad feelings about fish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27427882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thornofthelily/pseuds/Thornofthelily
Summary: Goro needs to get out. Out of the city, out of Tokyo, out of the places where Kurusu Akira still echoes. Out in the woods, he meets a god, a fish, a friend.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: akeshuake fairy tales [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981270
Comments: 14
Kudos: 86





	like a drop of rain flowing to the ocean

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another fic that started off as a shitpost idea that I took way too serious. I have no excuses.

After Akira died, Goro’s world emptied out like his soul had been poured from the vessel of his bones

Food lost its taste. The world lost color. His skin felt not pleasure nor pain. His eyelids constantly drooped, tears wrung out of them from months of grief. Nothing mattered anymore. His useless hands constantly reached for an empty shape in the silhouette of Kurusu Akira. He vacillated between his five stages of grief in erratic, unpredictable patterns. Anger, of course; anger always comforted him. Then a deep well of sorrow threatening to drown him, held back only by flimsy denial. _The Metaverse works in odd ways. You’ve seen the Thieves fall in combat to horrendous wounds only to pop back moments later._ Despite the fact he never saw Joker fall like that. And Joker’s death had nothing to do with the Metaverse.

Denial and anger sustained him on the days the depression threatened to smooth over every interesting angle and worthwhile callous of his life. So when Tokyo became too overwhelming, full of holes and punched-out spaces once occupied by a beautiful, clever boy with messy black hair and glasses he didn’t need, he left. Sometimes just a few days, sometimes weeks.

On this trip, he went out into the countryside, staying at a small, old, but comely inn. He imagined Akira’s hometown might have been something like this. Not that he knew where he was from. Akira died with the secrets of his youth and his hometown and his whole life buried under his ribs. They sent his body away, and his friends attended the funeral. But Goro didn’t. He wasn’t welcome. Or maybe he meant so little to the former Phantom Thieves they didn’t even think to ask. He found out from reading the fucking obituary in the paper.

The inn backed up to a lovely patch of woods with a narrow trail leading through it. The innkeepers said guests were welcome to hike along it, that they owned the surrounding land. Too out of his head to tell them to shut up, they told him some story about it, a shrine at the end of the trail, protector deity, the rain and the river, blah blah blah. Goro checked in to his room and rolled out the futon before collapsing on it and staring at the ceiling.

He did that for most of the day, the droning buzz of summer cicadas synchronizing with the static in his head until the light in his room dimmed with the sun’s approach to the horizon. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately, because he slept all day already. It never graced him at night. Nighttime existed for thieves, for scoundrels, for texts to his crush and jazz club visits and games of pool. He never slept at night.

So when the black of his room faded to a misty gray, he pulled on biking shorts and a loose top and headed to the trail for a short walk in the fog of pre-morning. The room was too small. The air too humid and thick. He needed to be moving, distract his empty brain with the kinesthesiology of his feet hitting dirt, his arms mechanically swinging, his heart waking up to beat for the first time in days.

The trail was nice. The woods were different. Different from Tokyo- _don’t think about it._ Different from their old haunts _don’t think about it._ No place that reminded him of _redacted._ He focused on his legs, carefully watching his every step for an errant rock or tree root that might snag him, but the path stayed clear and well-maintained.

And too short, it turned out. It ended less than fifteen minutes later at a small wooden shrine, barely the height of his chest, modest but cared for. Walking up to it, he paused, then he clapped, bowed, clapped, the way his mother taught him the two times she took him to hatsumode. He didn’t know who or what was enshrined here, but might as well be polite. The gods already took from him the only thing that mattered, maybe as punishment for his crimes, but maybe if he served his penance- _no, that’s bargaining._ _Stop thinking about it._ Some days his brain just circled the drain of that blissful “acceptance,” empty nirvana he’ll never achieve. He accepted he will never be okay without Akira.

Turning to head back to the inn, an errant beam of light through the trees caught a sparkling pool of water just off the path. He wouldn’t have noticed it, wouldn’t have cared to venture even one step beyond the guided pathway of his hollow life, but some small, near-dead spark of curiosity and adventure flickered inside him, and he stepped off the marked trail and took a few steps into the woods themselves.

Weaving past a few trees, he quickly found it. A small pristine little pond, just hidden from sight from the trail. It was fed by a small stream, bubbling over some rocks to create a tranquil little waterfall. The water was dark but clear, free of leaves or other debris. Sitting by the edge, he spotted a little school of koi swimming about. To keep his mind busy, he studied the number of unique patterns. One all white with splotches of orange. One with uneven blemishes of white, black, and red. One all black. Black and white. All orange.

One swam curiously close to him, right to the edge of the water. He thought it was another all black one, but its pectoral fins and the tip of its tail were deep red, along with a few strangely regular spikes of white edging from under its belly. Goro’s his grief must be edging into delirium because it reminded him of Joker’s costume.

“Hey there,” he cooed, insensate, thoughts edging almost manic with the ludicrous comparison. He dipped his finger in the water like he was going to pet the damn thing. He expected to startle it and scare it away, like how most of his human encounters have gone lately, but strangely the fish didn’t flee. It swam a little closer, then experimentally nibbled the tip of his finger. Just a weird little flicker of touch, ticklish and feather-light, it barely felt like anything. Which was weird because Goro’s body had stopped registered any sort of touch once he read Akira’s name in the papers and saw the date of the funeral had already passed.

The koi kept circling around his finger, bumping him gently with its head, swishing its tail until it brushed his nail. Almost on purpose. “I don’t have any food for you,” he told it, but still it circled him, patient, asking for nothing.

Before he realized it, he sunk his whole hand beneath the surface of the cool pond. The little koi _don’t call it joker don’t call it akira_ swam happily between his spread fingers. The delicate webbing of its fins brushed his skin. But he wasn't sure if it was okay to touch a fish this much. Some vague nature documentaries that he caught in some long-forgotten foster home, something something oils of the skin not good for a fish. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand out, shaking a few droplets free. The fish paced in anxious circles as though looking for him. He felt a little bad. “Sorry, friend.” Goro muttered sadly, “I don’t think that’s very good for you.”

He watched, feeling relaxed and content for the first time in… weeks? Months? Ever? His little friend eventually gave up and returned to its tiny school, resuming the calming pattern of life.

The warmth of the rising sun eventually settled into Goro’s bones, and he headed back down the trail toward the inn, where the old couple who ran the place were were just setting up for the morning. He meant to head directly into his room, but the wife called out to him, making him jump. “Ah, good morning young man! Did you go hiking along the trail?”

Goro forgot what it felt like to be perceived. He’d stopped doing interviews, stopped pretending to be polite. He became used to his aura rankling all who encountered him. The fact that he seemed approachable enough for this kindly old lady to speak to him made him forget to be himself. “Yes… I did. It was quite lovely.”

She beamed at him, fiddling with the obi around her waist. “Wonderful, wonderful. Did you see the kamisama?”

Goro blinked. “You mean the shrine?”

“Yes, of course!” She began prattling on again about the enshrined deity, a fateful encounter, how she met her husband. Goro’s glow from the walk did not last, and his attention wandered. It had been a while since he felt happiness. And from a fucking fish, of all things. He must really be losing his mind.

When her story paused long enough, Goro managed to excuse himself back to his room before he realized he had nothing to do there. He came here to escape the city, to distract himself, but now he was alone in a room in an unfamiliar town, and apparently making friends with a fish. Before the loneliness became too much to bear, he returned to the foyer and spoke to the woman at the front desk.

“The… the pond, by the shrine,” he began awkwardly. How did he used to start conversations? How did he have charisma? “Do you… feed them? Take care of them?”

Of course, they sold some fish food to guests who wanted to sit by the pond. A couple yen poorer, Goro’s feet found the trail once more, heading into the woods, little bag of fish food on one hand.

He felt like an idiot. Like a dottering old retiree with nothing better to do with his life. Befriending a fancy goldfish because it swam up to him once, because it’s coloration looked kind of like the magic thief outfit his rival once wore in a magical other dimension. Goro started laughing and couldn’t stop. Cackling so hard, he collapsed against a tree, nearly spilling the food all over the forest floor. Madness. Sheer, utter madness. That wasn’t one of the five stages, was it? Going completely, stark, raving mad.

He laughed until his stomach hurt, his sides cramped, his throat closed up. At some point he collapsed to the ground, wheezing, tears streaming down his eyes until he was actually crying. Crying for what he lost. Crying for what he never had.

No one else passed him on the trail. Good. He didn’t see many other people at the inn. Maybe he was the only guest. Maybe it was still too early for anyone to go for a walk. Regardless, Goro somehow, eventually, pulled himself together. He picked up the damn brown bag of fish food. He paid for it, might as well give the stupid fish a snack.

Back at the pond, the black and red fish swam up to him immediately, moving in happy little circles. “Did you miss me already?” He asked, then rolled his eyes. _What are you still doing, talking to it._ “Well, whatever. I got you and your friends something.”

Once he began scattering the food across the middle of the pond, the other fish scurried to the surface and began eating frantically, little round mouths popping and bubbling. But strangely, Goro’s fish (might as well think of it that way) didn’t. It stayed hovering nearby, fins flicking anxiously. _Going to keep personifying it, are you?_ Goro sighed. “You need to eat too, don’t you?” He tossed a few pellets its way. Goro could swear it _paused,_ before finally turning away and eating.

He watched it move. All koi move gracefully in the water, flowing fins and vibrant colors, circling as gently and comforting as the stars at night, a flag in a breeze. Yet Goro’s fish stayed by the edges, away from the others, swimming back and forth, keeping a round watery eye trained on him.

“Are you lonely too?” He dipped his fingers back into the water, and his little friend immediately approached and nibbled him affectionately. “But you have all these friends around you. You have others you can spend time with, other than me. It’s pointless.” At some point, he realized he was pretending he really was talking to Akira. Stupid, sentimental idiot. “Even this little contact, I’m probably hurting you. This is bad for you. I’m- I’m talking to a fish.” The anger returned, vengeful, spiteful. The fish swam into the palm of his hand and on an impulse Goro flung it, just enough to toss it across the pond. The assembled koi scattered, diving deeper into the water.

Goro sucked in a breath. Shit. He probably killed it, didn’t he? Fuck. Just like in the interrogation room, when he thought… no. No, dammit, don’t think about it. But, wait. It was fine. It… swam back towards Goro, actually moving faster than the lazy, contented pace it had been moving.

“You… like that?” Goro asked, of a fish. Dumbfounded. “What, are you a thrill-seeker like him, too?”

He returned his hand to the water. And again, the fish swam into his palm. Waited.

Carefully, keeping safety in mind, he tossed the fish across the pond, where it landed with a hardy little splash. And again, it swam right back up to Goro. He had to laugh, tamping it down to keep the mania from his voice.

“You really are so much like him, aren’t you? You don’t know what’s good for you. You keep coming back again and again, even though I could very easily hurt you.” He tossed the fish more and more, and every time, it swam right back to him, like a puppy playing fetch. Goro never knew his heart could feel so light and airy. He was having _fun._

He played toss a few more times, but got worried it could hurt the fish somehow, so he settled for leaving his hand in the cool waters, letting his friend lap happy little circles around him. Every now and then, another koi would swim up curiously, but dart away at a too-sudden movement from Goro. Why was this little one different? Why did it stay near him, when he kept scaring everyone else away?

Talking came easily here. After all, it was an empty woods, with a silent god enshrined behind him and mute fish swimming peacefully in the water below. Cicadas occasionally creaked their drowsy tune and Goro listened, sometimes talking about what led him here. About all the feelings he never got to confess. About the games never won, and all the ones he lost. He wondered if Akira took his glove with him to the grave. Would anyone else know what it meant? Maybe they threw it away with his other belongings. Would serve Goro right. His last impudent, childish challenge, because it was easier to say _I hate you_ than the truth.

As he talked, he watched his friend play. He told it all about Akira. About how brave and slick he was as Joker. About how weird and goofy he was as himself, yet also still sweet and clever. And about how Goro lo… appreciated both sides of him. How much he missed him. How much he wanted to see him. He needed both hands to wipe away the tears.

When he pulled his hand from the water, his friend broke away from him, and for a stupid moment Goro’s heart ached, worried he upset the fish.

He watched, mesmerized, as it dove below the water, so deep he almost lost sight of it. Scanning the water, not sure what he was looking for, he fell back in surprise as his friend bolted from the depths and actually broached the water, catching centimeters of airtime before it plopped back into the pond, thoroughly terrifying the other koi. His friend made a proud lap around the small pond, and Goro found himself laughing so hard he forgot he had even been crying.

Again and again, his friend attempted its little stunt, and Goro laughed and smiled and clapped each time. Dipping his hand under the surface, he skimmed his fingers along the fringe of its tail. “Very impressive. Much like some back-flipping Thief I once knew.”

But by now the sun was high and bright in the sky, and Goro needed food. He thanked his friends and returned to the inn, steps light and airy.

Chatting with the innkeepers came easier that evening. His old charm trickled back into his voice as he espoused praise for the woods, the walking trail, the ambiance of the pond. The wife smiled knowingly and placed her hands over Goro’s. “The water here is special,” she said with a gentle smile. “Our kamisama is small and humble, but is still a dragon.”

He furrowed his brow. Her tone implied she was just restating something she had said earlier. Did she mention that earlier, when Goro was spacing out? He honestly couldn’t be sure. But instead of being rude and revealing he hadn’t been listening earlier, he smiled and bowed his head and thanked her.

He didn’t make it back to the pond that day, but he found he could actually sleep at night. The first peaceful sleep he’d had since… maybe even before Shido. Dawn greeted him with warmth and excitement. He went downstairs and had a lovely chat with the innkeepers, running shoes and jogging clothes already on. The husband smiled at him and said it was nice to see a young man so full of energy. Goro missed his bike. By the time he finished breakfast and made it out to the pond, Goro’s gait had become almost a skip.

And then he saw a distinct red-and-black fish lying on the ground.

Heart leaping to his throat, Goro scrambled the last few meters to his friend lying immobile on the bank, scooping it up (as well as fistfuls of dirt) and placing it back in the water. Blood pounded in his ears as he watched his friend sink, silent and heavy as a stone, and hot tears burned in the back of his throat. Then it finally shuttered to life, thrashing spasmodically, before apparently regaining its bearings, settling one watery jelliferous eye on Goro.

“You scared me,” Goro chided, crossing his arms like that admonition meant anything. “Taking such unnecessary risks, showing off like you know everything, it’s gonna… it’s going to get you…” Throat tight, Goro swallowed down his next words. _It’s a fish,_ he kept reminding himself. _It’s just a damn fish._ How the hell could a fish remind him so much of _him_?

“Don’t do that again,” he sighed, finally relinquishing and letting his friend nibble cheerfully on his fingers. “Were you trying to show off because you knew I was coming? Well, stop it. Can’t have both the idiots in my life die for stupid reasons.”

Content with Goro’s presence, his friend resumed its usual lazy laps around his hand, eventually egging Goro into another tossing game. He wondered if the kind old couple trained this fish, somehow. Even as he thought it, he knew it was ridiculous. None of the other fish acted this way. Only this one anomaly, this… this Fish-Akira. Eager as him to sacrifice itself. But hell, this fish could be a girl for all he knew.

Goro ran his hand through his hair. “Ridiculous,” he murmured. His friend bumped his fingers with its head, getting Goro’s attention. Then it repeated yesterday’s trick, diving deep into the pond before shooting up from the water. This time, it wasn’t just centimeters- it must have been half a meter! And it didn’t just leap straight in the air, in the middle of the pond. It shot itself that an arrow towards the small pebbly waterfall on the far side of the pond. Goro gasped and scrambled over to the little creek, where Goro watched it smack bodily into the rocks. When it landed, it made a bodily _flop._

“Hey!” Goro cried out, stern. “Cut it out!” He held his hand in front of the stream, trying to block the fish from trying again. “That’s dangerous.”

His friend _fw_ _ipped_ its tail in a startling clear gesture of annoyance, lapping the pond once before resuming its previous position. “No you don’t,” Goro snarled, and when the fish leapt from the water, Goro managed to catch it and gently release it beneath the surface. “You’re not the only one who learned a trick,” he continued snidely. “I’ll be in your way all day.”

If fish could huff indignantly, Goro was sure this fish would. As though annoyed, it skulked in the center of the pond, away from Goro’s reach. He sighed. “Fine. If you’re gonna be mad at me, maybe I can bribe you with food.”

Goro headed back down the path to the inn. It took a few minutes to find the innkeeper- he was taking a call in a back room, his wife running errands to pick up groceries, so between traveling to and from the inn, it took him over half an hour to bring the new pouch of fish food back for his friend.

Near the pond, he saw a black koi, belly-up in the middle of the pond. Spokes of white on its underside. His heart stopped.

The rest of the tiny school hid in the dark depths, and he didn’t see any sign of his friend floating near the surface. “You idiot,” he hissed, reaching for the still creature, but it floated dead center of the pond, and he couldn’t quite reach it. And what was he going to do, give it CPR? Take it to a vet? He fell back against a tree looming over the water, his guts filling with rocks.

The stupid thing. It was pulling dangerous tricks all day, and Goro just left it? Probably slammed its head into the pebbles under the waterfall and died, or jumped too high and hurt itself when it landed. He ripped open the fish food pouch and hurled the rest into the water. The scared little koi hesitantly rose to the surface in one big mass, feeding with increasing confidence. Their gasping little mouths pushed the dead fish across the water, towards the waterfall. No red-finned fish swam up to him with ease and trust, no fish circled impatiently waiting for Goro’s hand to pet it.

In just a day, he lost Akira all over again.

Exhaustion sat heavier on his eyes, his lips, his wrists. Why did he even bother with stupid fleeting glimpses of happiness anyway? What, he thought he had a little bond with a fish, at a pond, near an inn in the countryside he only rented for a week? Regardless of what happened, it wasn’t like he was gonna keep the damn thing. He rubbed a weary hand on the back of his neck. Some vacation this turned out to be. Some respite for forgetting his sorrow for even a second.

He dragged his feet towards the trail, pausing at the shrine. That’s right, he hadn’t prayed today. He performed the little bow, clap, bow routine, and as he lowered his head to the height of the small, squat shrine, he let sincere words bubble from his heart and pour from his soul in a silent scream.

_Thank you for giving me time with Akira, even if it was short. Thank you for reminding me about happiness, even if fleeting. If you are trying to make me appreciate what I have, then I think you succeeded. I won’t take my bonds for granted again._

Goro stood and straightened his lapels. Well. So much for that. He spared one more glance at the pond, at the dark little fish slowly spinning with the motions of the rippling water, and nothing else. He didn’t catch sight of the fins, but no other fish looked quite like that, he was sure.

This death came easier. After all, it was only a stupid daredevil fish, and Goro had only known it existed for a day or so. It stung, and he was sad, but it found it was easier to move on. He still smiled at the innkeeper and his wife as he passed them. He ate breakfast downstairs with them and the few other older guests staying there. He went for walks through the rural town. Akira would have liked it here.

Once his week at the inn ended, Goro returned to his quiet, empty apartment in Tokyo. He had bought a couple plants from the flower shop Akira used to work at. It seemed fitting at the time, but Goro forgot plants could die after a week without water and attention. Huh. He hadn’t cared before he left, and now he did. Maybe he could pick up a few more at Rafflesia. He could stop by the beef bowl shop for lunch first, then get some groceries from 777 later, too. Akira’s presence touched lots of small, mundane places in the city, making them seem that much more special, somehow.

With a new spider plant and a couple succulents affixed by his bedroom window, Goro headed for the bath, ready to soak for a while before he slept. As he immersed himself in the hot, aromatic water, the exhaustion from the week and the day caught up with him. For a vacation, Goro felt more drained than he had when he left. Less sad, maybe, but even moreso just _burned out_ _._

He didn’t realized he had drifted to sleep. He floated in darkness, alone, quiet. The sound of water lapped against his skin, but he didn’t feel anything. A peaceful, dark, warm place, all to himself. And then a hand brushed his cheek.

He didn’t open his eyes at first. The touch felt safe, familiar, loving, and he leaned his cheek into it, sighing happily. This hand, this warm skin on his, Goro knew would help him sleep better. Better than he had since Akira died, before he signed on with Shido. That was the promise hidden in that secret warmth: peace. Reassurance. Comfort.

“Goro,” a familiar voice whispered from nowhere, into nowhere.

Goro hummed, body heavy with a bone-deep contentment he did not want to surface from.

“Goro,” the voice again, teasing, pulling. Almost amused. “Honey, I’m home.”

The words shot through Goro’s heart, stabbing him in places he didn’t think he could still bleed from. Eyes bolted open, and there was no hand, no Akira standing in front of him like he expected. But coiled up, spiraling in the darkness, he saw the radiant, lionic face of a dragon. Even in the lightless place, the dragon’s black scales shone vividly against the blankness, like it was illuminated from behind, gilded in holy light. The eyes burned molten silver, red whiskers curling from its snout. Unbelievable. Simply unreal. The creature radiated beauty, and Goro wanted to bury his face in its fur, its scales, its warmth, and weep.

Stendhal syndrome. Exposure to works of art so astounding, the body becomes overwhelmed. Heart palpitations, beading sweat, confusion, hallucinations. Was this a hallucination? A dream? Goro couldn’t be sure, but his mind burned with the heat of everything the dragon’s stare promised.

“You know who I am, don’t you, Goro?”

Of course he did. He only thought about him every day, every day since that television station, at the name in his contacts, the memories of jazz and billiards and coffee filling his tongue.

“Akira,” he whispered in reverence, like he was speaking to a god. He supposed he was, now. “But how?”

The dragon chuckled in a voice wholly different from Akira’s. Akira’s voice echoed in his own head, detached and removed from the magnificent sublime before him.

“Don’t play _coy_ ,” Akira’s voice danced around the pun as the dragon’s eyes narrowed playfully. The long serpentine tail twined in lazy circles in midair. “We played quite fun little games, didn’t we?”

Goro eyed the splay of luminous black scales down the dragon’s throat, the shock of white down its underside. The red of its whiskers, its claws.

“So… you were really...?”

The large canine head bowed once. “I was. I wasn’t aware of much, but something drew me to you, even in that simple form. You felt familiar. Safe. Warm.”

Sobs burned down Goro’s throat and he swallowed them all. He couldn't lose his ability to speak now. “That couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m not safe. I was never safe. I let you die twice.”

Akira- the dragon- turned its head to regard him with one quizzical eye. “You couldn’t help my first death. You did not even witness it. My second ‘death’ was my own choosing. Something awakened in me when I saw you again, Goro. Some instinct I could not name nor truly comprehend. That if I scaled that measly little waterfall, I could be with you forever.”

Goro’s hands reached out to stroke the soft white mane of fur on the top of the dragon’s head. Thick, smooth. Straight. A little disappointing. He never knew what Akira’s original frizzy hair felt like, but this would have to do.

“When a goldfish scales a waterfall, it becomes a dragon,” Goro dimly recalled from his research into mythology. Once he realized the creatures of the Metaverse related to human myths and folk tales, it seemed useful at the time to study up.

The dragon’s snout tucked up under Goro’s chin, a little larger than a St. Bernard. “Now I’m immortal,” Akira’s very human voice contrasted sharply to the heavenly beast currently cuddling him. “Water calls to me. I could feel you slipping in my domain, and I wanted to see you one last time.”

Goro’s hand gripped the dragon’s fur in terror. “Last time?”

A soft little snort. “I don’t think… I’m supposed to be doing this,” and for once, his voice sounded unsure. “There are… things I have to do. I can feel it. Visiting… humans, is not one of them.”

“But you’ve always been a trickster.” Goro’s hands slipped down the mane and wrapped around the long neck/body/tail, whatever of Dragon Akira he could grasp.

“Always,” the voice charmed right back.

“What am I going to do without you?” Goro’s soft voice edged into the sob he could no longer contain.

The dragon’s lips pulled back into what Goro assumed was a smile, although on that maw, it looked like a snarl. “I’ll give you the gift of rain. The sounds of rushing rivers will be my voice, the roar of the ocean my breath. When storms darken your doorstep, know that’s my way of visiting you. And the harder it rains, the more excited I am to see you.”

The dream/vision/hallucination began slipping, Akira/Dragon/Rival were vanishing into the nothingness. Only one last thing to say.

“I miss you, Akira,”

“I love you too, Goro.”

He awoke in a jolt as his chin touched lukewarm bathwater. He tutted at the wrinkles on his palms, the tackiness of bath salts stuck awkwardly to his skin. He stepped out, toweled off, and went to bed for real.

Goro moved out of the city shortly after, to a quiet town in the countryside. He liked to imagine Akira’s hometown was like this. His house sat at the mouth of a river, and every time it rained, he sat outside for hours and smiled up to slate-gray skies.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Chinese legend. If a carp can leap over a waterfall, it becomes a dragon.
> 
> Lovely art by [Keycake](https://twitter.com/Keycake/status/1331338041441521664?s=19)!


End file.
